


Everyone Has a Tequila Story

by izzyb



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyb/pseuds/izzyb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing she remembered about last night was taking a shot of tequila after licking a line of salt off of Leonard's amazingly bare chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Has a Tequila Story

The last thing she remembered about last night was taking a shot of tequila after licking a line of salt off of Leonard's amazingly bare chest. She did not usually forget things when she drank, but passing that damn final exam in Basic Tactics had prompted her to accept McCoy's invitation and forget her mother's cautions on overindulgence, especially in tequila.

"Everyone has a tequila story, Chris," she had said once, sipping a margarita with her noon salad. "Make sure yours is not one you have to explain to your children." Lauren Chapel had been something else, that's for sure, God rest her soul. Christine believed that she would approve of McCoy, even though he had been just as drunk last night, encouraging her sloppy advances with a warm hand on her ass.

Oh, those hands.

She shuddered as she realized she was thinking of her mother while reliving her sexual fantasies of McCoy's hands. He might have hit her ass last night too, come to think of it. She believed his alter-ego, Jim, had been encouraging said ass smacking with a gleeful "Come on, Bones. You know you want to."

But after that last shot, the night was a mystery. Before tipping the scale with body shots, she had danced on the small and tacky dance floor with one of her female classmates—and might have kissed her too, to the encouragement of the males in their party. Tequila was dangerous; her mother was right.

These thoughts ran through her head quickly enough while she still had her eyes closed and was comfortably wrapped up in a smooth sheet and fluffy comforter. She cracked opened one eye and realized that the room was spinning, so quickly closed it again and stifled her moan against encroaching nausea.

Never again was she thinking that she could keep up with her male classmates. _God, please_, she prayed, wondering just who she thought was going to answer her plea for relief from an intense headache brought on by her own stupidity.

She moaned again, not bothering to stifle it, then letting out an undignified squeak when a warm arm banded itself around her waist and she was pulled towards a (very much naked) male body. Her eyes shot open this time, dizziness be damned. Had she really been that far gone? Christine tentatively reached down and found only normal morning wetness, nothing that screamed royally fucked at her. And she knew, from the way he looked at her, that McCoy would fuck her into the mattress if she even gave a hint that she welcomed it.

Wait. She had welcomed it. Last night—she remembers at least that much—she threw herself at him while intoxicated and said things like "Haven't you thought about it?" and "Wouldn't you call this a date now, McCoy? It's just me and you. Everyone left us." Nipping his earlobe. "Alone."

"I'm not easy, honey. I don't sleep with girls on the first date."

She had thought herself full of feminine power at that point, trailing her hands down his arms, watching his eyes cross when she hooked a leg around his. "Who said anything about sleeping?"

Remembering this, she tensed under the weight of the arm. It smelled like McCoy—she had memorized the sharp scent of his cologne months ago during her distracted first few days sitting next to him in the same Basic Tactics class. No woman in her right mind would forget it

This wasn't how she wanted their first time alone to be—recovering from a train wreck of a first date—but she wasn't exactly unhappy to be in the position now.

He stirred in her arms. "You awake?" he grumbled into her ear. She had always suspected he wouldn't be much of a morning person.

"Hi," she offered lamely, and closed her eyes at the awkwardness of her answer.

"Morning." His voice was gravelly and he cleared it before adding, "Don't be nervous, Chris, we didn't do anything."

_Not yet_, was the obvious ending to that.

"I know."

"So we're doing this, then?" It was a vague question—she was talking about the "us" part, but it could also refer to their compromising position in her bed.

"Hell yes we are. C'mere." She turned over and he stroked the hair out of her face, mapping the edges of her jaw with his fingertips. "It's not our first date anymore."

"So that was a date last night? I couldn't be sure, especially when you spent most of it glaring at everyone from the vantage point of the bar."

"It brought you back over to me, didn't it? But that's not the point, is it? The point is this is our second date."

"And…? Oh." His meaning became clear as he nuzzled her neck and brought her closer to him with one of those delicious hands on her lower back.

"As soon as we shower the stink of the bar off of us, I am going to take you back to this bed and do bad things to you."

She shivered at his words and her head spun again. "Damn tequila. Feed me and cure this headache and you can do whatever you want."

"Aw, poor baby. I can fix that." He rubbed her forehead gently and she almost purred.

Her mother wasn't wrong—tequila could be dangerous, but the feral look in McCoy's eyes as she casually walked naked to the bathroom made her decide that the danger was worth it.


End file.
